Melt With You
by Souris
Summary: Can Elsa help Emma come to terms with her magic and her past and how both affect her burgeoning relationship with Killian?
1. Chapter 1

Melt With You

By: Souris

Rated: T. Nothing that would be out of place onscreen.

Author's note: This story is based on speculation over vague spoilers for Season 4. Captain Swan romance/angst (the romance will come more in the next chapter). Emma Swan. Killian Jones. Elsa. A bit of David.

_If love wants you; if you've been melted_

_down to stars, you will love_

_with lungs and gills, with warm blood_

_and cold. With feathers and scales._

_..._

_If love wants you, suddenly your past is_

_obsolete science. Old maps,_

_disproved theories, a diorama. _

– **Anne Michaels, "Last Night's Moon"**

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_"Some people are worth melting for."_

– **Olaf, "Frozen"**

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FOREST OUTSIDE STORYBROOKE

NIGHT

Snow and sharp bits of ice swirled in the air, stealing Emma's breath and making her eyes water. As if one woman wielding ice magic wasn't enough, now they had two. But it wasn't the pervasive cold that clenched her heart – it was the sight of Killian held immobile in the Snow Queen's grasp, frosty tendrils wrapped around his throat.

"Let him go!" Emma screamed, her gun pointed at this latest threat to the town. David and Elsa stood nearby on either side of her, but they hesitated at her hostage.

Suddenly the gun in Emma's grasp became frozen steel, burning her hand with such penetrating cold that she cried out in pain and was forced to drop it before her muscles shattered. Elsa glanced at her in concern, then sent out waves of cold magic around Killian, trying to pull him away from the Snow Queen. For a moment, it looked as if she might succeed, and the older woman furrowed her brow. Then, with a flick of her hand, the magic spun back to Elsa, knocking her over into a snow bank.

"You'll have to do better than that, little ice maiden. You have power, but you're no match for me."

Killian's eyes were turned toward Emma, and she could see the life draining from their blue depths as the lack of oxygen took its toll. Terror surged through her, and she searched desperately within her for that intangible, elusive well of magic. Why couldn't she find it? _Where was it?_ Then, without warning, it burst forth, uncontrolled and overwhelming. She tried to focus it, but it was too much, too strong, and it surged toward Killian and the Snow Queen in a torrent of heat, erupting between them into a ball of flame that shoved them away from each other violently. The Snow Queen staggered backward until she hit a tree, and Killian was thrown several yards away, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

The Snow Queen stared at her in wide-eyed shock, then she seemed to pull the churning snow around her like a cloak, until she she was enveloped in white – and then she was gone, and the forest was still again.

Emma ran toward Killian, his name torn from her lips with a sob. She knelt beside him and jerked his coat open. The leather was warm, almost hot, to her touch, and his neck and chest glowed red in the moonlight. Emma gasped, realizing what her magic had done. "Oh, God, Killian, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

He began to suck in great breaths of air, and Elsa crouched next to them, her hands ghosting over his burned skin, cooling and soothing, the redness calming to a rosy pink. She looked up at Emma's guilt-stricken face. "He'll be fine. I think his coat protected him from the worst of it."

David put his hand on her shoulder. "Emma, it's OK –"

She shook her head. "No. No, it's not."

Killian blinked, his eyes searching for her. "What happened?" he croaked as he sat up with Elsa's assistance, his hand coming up to touch his throat gingerly.

"Me. I happened." Emma's voice broke. "I almost killed you."

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27 YEARS AGO

SWAN RESIDENCE

The house was dark and quiet as Emma crept from her bedroom into the nursery, her bare feet padding silently against the carpet. She knew she wasn't supposed to be in there by herself, but she wanted to see the baby again.

She was just tall enough to peer between the slats of the crib. The baby – Angela Joy, they had named her – was simply lying there in her little pink outfit, pink blanket wrapped around her legs. She didn't look like anything special. Nothing that deserved to be called "miracle" or "gift from God." At least she wasn't crying. She'd been making an awful racket ever since they'd brought her home from the hospital a week and a half ago. Emma couldn't stand the noise she made when her face got all red and her mouth opened wide. It made Emma want to run away and put her hands over her ears, but it made everybody else rush toward her to pick her up and coo over her.

Emma frowned. She didn't like the baby. They said she had to love and protect her little sister, but Emma didn't care. She didn't want a sister. Especially one who cried all the time and had stinky diapers. Nobody paid any attention to her anymore. They'd only read her to sleep twice since the baby came.

And she'd overheard when that awful Mrs. Abernathy from next door had looked at her and whispered to her husband, "I wonder if they'll send that one back now they've got their own?"

She wished they'd never brought the baby home. She wished the baby would go away. Maybe the stork from the picture book would come and fly away with her. Stupid baby.

Suddenly, the crib began to shake. The baby whimpered and flailed her arms. Emma's eyes widened and she backed up against the wall. What was happening? The crib shook harder, teetering back and forth, and the baby began to cry with loud, ear-splitting wails. Emma clapped her hands over her ears, but before she could run, the crib crashed over onto its side and the baby spilled onto the floor, screaming even harder. Emma just wanted the noise to stop. _Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! _The words echoed in her head. The blanket wrapped itself tightly around the baby's head, muffling her cries.

Suddenly, her parents were rushing into the room. Her mother scooped up the baby, jerking the blanket away, and her father grabbed Emma by the arms, shaking her with fury. "Emma! What did you do? Did you try to hurt the baby? Did you try to smother her?"

Emma shook her head violently and burst into tears. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

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STORYBROOKE

THE NEXT MORNING

Emma sat on the bench beside the water, hunched into her leather jacket. Her phone buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket, scowling at the screen. Another missed call from her father. She sighed and typed in a quick text. _I'm OK. Need some time. Don't worry._

Somebody sat down beside her, and she glanced into Elsa's sympathetic face. "I know what you're going through," Elsa said, her voice kind.

"Really? You almost burned your boy– … somebody you cared about to a crisp?" Emma grimaced a bit at the sharp tone to her voice, but she didn't apologize.

"No. But I accidentally froze my sister's heart."

Emma's head whipped up. Elsa nodded. "I hated myself for it so much. I thought I would die from the guilt. But she sacrificed herself for me, out of love, and that saved her life. It thawed her heart. Magic isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?"

"But how do you deal with that?" Emma implored. "I'm so scared of what my magic could do to the people I care about. I can't control it, and it terrifies me. I hurt Killian. And people in my past…."

"I don't have all the answers, Emma. But I spent most of my life in isolation because of my magic. My parents thought they were doing the best thing by shutting me up in my room, keeping me and Anna apart so I couldn't hurt her again, but I don't think it was. I think maybe it was the worst thing. Nobody knew how to help me, and I didn't have anybody I could talk to about it. I was all alone."

"Elsa, I'm so sorry. I know about growing up lonely." Emma patted her hand, and for a moment, they were silent, each thinking of their desolate childhoods. "So how did you learn to control your magic?"

"You mean, apart from the occasional spontaneous snow monster?" Elsa laughed ruefully. "I think you know that's still a work in progress. But I've come to realize that it was my fear that kept me from being able to control my power for so long. I was so scared of what I could do, of hurting people, that I kept trying to push the magic away, to shove it deep down inside me so it wouldn't come out. But it always did, especially when I was scared or attacked. I was fighting it instead of accepting it, and that doesn't work."

Emma chewed on her lower lip. "When I want to do something with magic, it's so hard to grab onto. I have to think about it so much. But sometimes it seems to explode out of nowhere with just a wish or a stray thought – even if I don't actually mean to do anything. It's like it has a mind of its own."

Elsa nodded. "Sometimes I think mine does, too. I don't know if it's the same for you, but for me, negative feelings – like fear or guilt – that's what destroys my control. Anna helped me so much, just with her belief and acceptance. When I feel safe and loved, the magic is … I guess I would say calm." She gestured toward the still pond in front of them. "It's like the water. When it's calm, it's just there, and you can channel it wherever you want it to go. It's easy. But when you fight it, it's like a storm. It churns and goes wherever it wants to." Elsa stared intently at the water, and suddenly it was filled with violent waves, roiling and splashing out onto the ground, spraying them with cold droplets. "You can't control it then, and it can drown you." She lowered her hand, and the water gradually stopped its motions, until it was serene once more.

"So, Emma, you see, the people you care about aren't actually your weakness," she continued. "They're your strength. What you feel for them, and what they feel for you, it can give you control. It's harder without Anna here, I'm not going to lie, but I can remember how her love makes me feel, and I can hold onto that and use it to keep me centered and calm. Maybe you can try that, too."

"Thank you." Emma squeezed Elsa's hand. "We'll find Anna for you. I promise."

Elsa gave a small smile, but Emma didn't miss the tears that welled onto her lashes. Her phone rang and Henry's picture popped up on the screen. This time, she answered it.


	2. Chapter 2

Melt With You

By: Souris

Rated: T. Nothing that would be out of place onscreen.

Author's note: This story is based on speculation over vague spoilers for Season 4. Captain Swan romance/angst. Emma Swan. Killian Jones.

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GRANNY'S B&B, STORYBROOKE  
LATE AFTERNOON

The expression "butterflies in the stomach" didn't quite fit, Emma thought. It was more like a herd of wildebeest that was stampeding around her abdomen.

She knocked on Killian's door and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It was only a few seconds until he flung open the door, and the wildebeest became bison. Maybe elephants.

"Swan!"

"Hi." For a moment, neither spoke. Then, they broke the silence simultaneously.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Can I come in?"

They both smiled sheepishly at the awkwardness that practically filled the hallway. He stepped back, ushering her in with a flourish of his hand. He was missing his usual leather coat and vest, and it took her only a few seconds to realize that the skin of his neck and chest looked completely normal. "You're healed!" she gasped in surprise.

He nodded. "The Lady Bell was so kind as to work a bit of magic on me in exchange for some rum. A good deal of rum, as a matter of fact."

She was unable to stop herself from reaching out to touch his neck softly, her fingers lingering in the deep V of his shirt, and he drew in a sharp breath at her touch. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. She'd said it more than a few times at the hospital the night before, but she wondered if she could ever say it enough.

"I know," he replied, voice gentle. "It's alright."

She withdrew her hand and took a few steps past him, noting the small pile of books on the bed and the mussed quilt. He had clearly been reading, and she smiled at the titles: _Treasure Island_, _Gulliver's Travels_ and _Grimm's Fairy Tales_.

"Belle recommended them to me," he said, following her gaze. Silence stretched out again, and again they broke it at the same time.

"What can I do for you, Swan?"

"Can we talk?"

He gestured toward the lone armchair in the room, then settled himself on the foot of the bed. She perched on the chair for a moment, then shot up again and began to pace.

He sighed. "Emma, if you've come to tell me something, I wish you'd simply say it. You can trust me with anything. I hope you know that." He seemed to brace himself, and Emma knew what he feared she was planning to say.

"It's me I can't trust," she replied softly.

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and she paced another few steps before forcing herself to sit down opposite him again. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"I've been talking to Elsa, about magic and control and emotions, and she helped me see some things. And I owe you an explanation. I know I've been difficult and frustrating ever since we got back from the Enchanted Forest."

He raised one eyebrow, and she had to give a small smile at the unspoken words behind the gesture. "OK, OK, before that, too. But I know you thought I was pushing you away again because I was scared, and I was – I _am_ – but not why you think."

"When I was in foster care all those years, I got a reputation," she continued. "Terrible things always seemed to happen around me. Everybody said I was 'bad luck' or a 'disaster magnet.' I could never last long in one place before something happened to make them send me back. Things got broken, people got hurt. Some of the foster parents said I was doing it all myself for attention, but I didn't know what was going on. I knew I hadn't done anything on purpose, but before long I started to believe it, that I was cursed, that anybody I got close to was going to get hurt. Nothing good ever happened; it was always something bad."

She realized that she had been gripping the corners of her jacket in tight fists without knowing it and let them drop. "And now I know why. I didn't know I was causing it all, but I _was_. When I found out I had magic, when I _believed_ it, I realized that was what had caused all those bad things. I did them all, without even meaning to. When I got angry or scared, my magic had just acted out on its own."

"Emma–" He reached for her, but she leaned backward, and he let his hand drop.

"When I was 13, there was a girl my age living next door to my foster home. Her name was Amy, and she was probably my first real friend. We hung out together all the time. I didn't like the foster parents, they just had me for the checks, but Amy made it bearable. She was fun and smart and didn't care that I was just a foster kid. There was a boy down the street, Kevin – I liked him a lot, but I don't think he ever noticed me. I don't know why I didn't tell Amy I liked him. Maybe because I knew he'd never like me back, so there was no point in talking about it. But I should have told her. I wish I had told her."

17 YEARS AGO  
EMMA SWAN'S FOSTER HOME

Emma let the screen door slam shut behind her, not caring that she'd get in trouble for the noise. Mrs. Raynor was going to send her to bed without dinner anyway – again – as punishment for some made-up reason. Emma had already seen that there were only two potatoes baking in the oven and two hamburgers ready to be put in the frying pan, and Mr. Raynor was settled down in the recliner with his second of three traditional pre-dinner beers, so he wasn't working late. She might as well let the door slam. Hell, she thought, she should probably open it back up and let it slam a second time. She didn't, though; she still had hope for tomorrow's dinner.

She rounded the hedge before she let herself put her hand in her pocket to rub the apple she'd stolen from the pantry when Mrs. Raynor was taking in the second beer. There was a new bag, so it wouldn't be missed. She always had to be careful when she took food, or else they'd realize. And then she really _would_ be in trouble.

Amy's mom opened the door when Emma knocked. "She's in the backyard," she said, motioning to the side of the house with her head. "We're going to be sitting down to dinner in about 20 minutes, though."

Emma nodded and headed around the side of the house. Amy's mom was nice enough, but Emma knew she didn't like the Raynors. Which just went to show that she had good judgment. Maybe Amy would ask her mom if Emma could stay for dinner; she did that sometimes, and those were the best meals ever, because Amy's mom was a great cook and never portioned out Emma's food so that she didn't get too much. They always let Emma eat however much she wanted.

Emma rounded the back corner and stopped short. Amy was there, alright, but so was Kevin! Amy was sitting in the rope swing under the big oak tree, and Kevin was standing next to her, and they were _kissing_! Amy was kissing _her_ Kevin!

It was like a huge hand grabbed ahold of Emma's heart and just kept squeezing and squeezing. She felt tears well up in her eyes. How could Amy do that to her? She knew Amy thought he was cute, all the girls did, but she was her best friend!

Emma felt something heavy and hot stir inside her. It was a storm, angry and powerful, and it was going to consume her, and that was OK, because she wanted it to consume her, to take away her vision so she wouldn't have to see what she was seeing. But instead it crystallized everything, made everything seem in slow motion, every detail sharp and fixed in her mind.

Amy had one of the flower chains she liked to weave resting atop her long, brown hair. There were daisies and those little yellow flowers that had the same name as the princess in that funny movie they'd watched on Amy's VCR the other week, Buttercup, what a weird name, who had a name like that? But Amy had said she wanted to be Buttercup and have a gorgeous pirate rescue her, they both did, and Kevin's hand was resting on Amy's arm and then they broke apart and Amy giggled and her face was all pink like she was embarrassed but she was giggling so she had liked it and Emma wanted to scream and scream at her but she had no voice and all she had was the billowing storm inside her.

Kevin stepped back, his smile wide, and started to push Amy in the swing. They didn't notice her. Higher and higher Amy went, and stronger and stronger the storm inside Emma grew –

– and the ropes broke, right when Amy was at the top of her arc, pointed feet lifted high in the air, hair streaming behind her, and she went flying, landing in a heap by her mother's prized rose bushes, her left arm under her at an impossible angle ... and then she didn't move. Kevin ran to her, yelling for Amy's parents, and Emma screamed then, screamed and screamed.

The flower wreath Amy had made lay at Emma's feet.

GRANNY'S B&B, STORYBROOKE

Emma had stood again at some point in her story; she didn't remember doing that. She held up her hand, turning her wrist so that her flower tattoo faced Killian. "That's why I got this, years later, because of Amy. I didn't know how, but I knew it was my fault. I wanted something bad to happen to her in that moment, just for a brief moment, and it did. She broke both her arms and her collarbone and fractured her skull. She was in the hospital for weeks, and I never saw her again. I felt too guilty to go see her, and by the time she got out, the foster parents had sent me back."

"Oh, Emma." He stood, his eyes full of pain for her, and she let him pull her gently into his arms. She wanted to resist, because she didn't deserve comforting, but instead she closed her eyes, cherishing the warmth of his strong arms around her, the calming beat of his heart underneath her ear, and for a few blessed seconds, there was peace. But then she made herself draw back.

"So do you understand why I was so resistant to using my magic before?" she asked. "I could only see it as this horrible _thing_ I couldn't control."

He nodded. "It's not fair you had to grow up in a land away from your home and parents. But you can't blame yourself for what happened to Amy. You didn't mean for it to happen. You didn't know about your magic then. You couldn't have. But now you do."

"Yes, but yesterday still happened. I was trying to help, but I could have burned you alive." Her voice rose. "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you, so much worse than yesterday."

"Don't you realize that you pushing me away hurts me more than anything else than could happen?" he asked. She drew in her breath, overwhelmed at the intensity of his gaze. But then she saw an emotion she couldn't quite name flicker in his eyes. "I haven't noticed you distancing yourself from Henry or your parents."

"That's different," she shot back.

"Is it? Or is it that I'm simply not worth the effort?" His voice went quiet, laden with a bleak, brittle sharpness that scraped across her skin.

"No! That's not it!" she cried out, distraught at the pain clouding his eyes. This wasn't going quite as she had planned. "It's different with you, because you make me feel like … like I'm going to lose control."

He smiled then, the confidence back just like that at her admission. "And that's a bad thing?"

"It is if it means my magic goes crazy."

He stepped closer again, so close she could feel the heat from his body. Her skin thrummed at his nearness, as it always did. Was it magic or desire that roiled deep within her, clamoring to be released?

"You're going to figure out how to control your magic, Emma, I know you are." He fingered a lock of her hair. "You said you talked to Elsa about it. What did she say?"

"She says it's my fear that's keeping me from being able to control it. That fighting it so much is what makes it unpredictable. She went through the same thing."

"But she learned to control it."

Emma nodded. "Her sister helped her. They'd been kept apart for most of their lives, but their bond was still there. Her sister's love made Elsa feel safe and unafraid, so she didn't have to worry so much about hurting Anna or their people. She thinks that drawing on the emotions of people we love and that love us helps us control our powers."

He considered this. "I think what she says makes a hell of a lot of sense. You are the product of True Love, Swan. If anybody's magic is going to run on that, it would be yours."

"I can tell in my heart that she's right," Emma admitted. "But I'm not used to caring about people or having them care about me. I'm used to the fear. It's a big leap of faith, you know?"

"I know." His eyes were soft and serious. "I lived with nothing but vengeance for so long, I didn't think I could feel anything else ever again. But then I met you, and you helped me see that I could. You helped me let that go, so there would be room for other things, better things. I want to help you the same way, if you'll let me. I believe in you, Emma. Believe in yourself. You can do this." He paused for the briefest moment. "You said you wanted to stop running. So, this is another thing to stop running from."

She took in his words. She had meant what she said in the Dark One's vault. She'd accepted that Storybrooke was her home, that she had a family here, that it was where she belonged. And, yes, try as she had to deny it for so long, she also belonged here, with this infuriating, surprising, sexy man who drove her crazy with his stubbornness and intensity and blue, blue eyes that always seemed to look directly into her soul. He had proven himself to her far beyond what she had ever expected anyone to – my God, he had given up his _home_ for her – and he deserved her trust. No more running, she told herself. She took a deep breath and felt … better. Freer. She smiled up at him.

"Are you talking about my magic or you?" She wasn't sure where the flirty tone to her voice came from. They had been so serious, and she had been so anxious. But that was gone. Telling him had somehow caused it all to melt away. He had a unerring knack for making that happen.

"From what you've said, it sounds like both." His mouth quirked as he instinctively read the sea change that had happened inside her. "So, are you ready to lose a little bit of control, Emma Swan?" He gave just the slightest raise to his eyebrows, but that and the deeper timbre to his voice was enough to send an electric jolt straight to the pit of her stomach. Oh, definitely desire, she thought.

She swayed closer to him, lifting her mouth to his, but stopped just before their lips met. "Wait a minute. Should we go sit in the hospital for this?" she asked, only mostly joking.

He grinned and shook his head. "There's no way in hell I'm doing this with Dr. Whale as an audience." And then his mouth claimed hers, somehow at once gentle and demanding, and she opened to him, to the wave of sensations that he aroused deep, deep inside her. She wanted this; she wanted _him_. Life and fear had taken so much from her. She wasn't going to let them take this, too. She deepened the kiss, aching to be closer to him, so much closer, and he followed her lead, his tongue stroking hers, and she pulled him tight, their bodies pressing against one another, molding themselves together, their hands caressing and groping, and she _wantedwantedwantedneeded_ more. Could she ever get enough?

They finally broke apart for a few moments of needed oxygen but stayed close, noses sliding against one another. "Remind me to go to Moe's shop tomorrow," he whispered. "I owe Elsa a giant bouquet."

She smiled and recaptured his mouth with hers. A lightness she'd never experienced bubbled within her, and it was all she could do not to laugh at the unexpected joy of it.

Maybe she wasn't quite ready to say the L-word yet. This glorious _thing_ between them was still so new. But it was real and powerful and held so much promise, so much _future_. She could easily envision a day when she would be ready to say it. And she wasn't scared of that anymore.

Her magic flowed through her, calm and peaceful and controlled.


End file.
